


Publicity

by Inky_Blackheart



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth is a Saint, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Bisexual Bruce Wayne, Bisexual Clark Kent, Closet Sex, Coming Out, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Past Clark Kent/Lois Lane, Protective Bruce Wayne, Scandal, Secret Relationship, Talk Shows, supportive friends, supportive parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24000655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inky_Blackheart/pseuds/Inky_Blackheart
Summary: Bruce looked into Clark’s eyes. His usually calm, no-nonsense expression was replaced by one of utter panic. Which, to anyone who didn’t know him, looked like he was struggling to hold in gas. “There’s nothing we can do, Clark. We’ve gone viral.”Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent are outed to the world after being caught making out at a gala. Chaos (and fluff) ensues.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 30
Kudos: 297





	Publicity

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Being outed (it's the inciting incident, so if you're sensitive to that kind of thing be warned), referenced homophobia

Even the finest champagne in Gotham could not make the gala any less dull. Clark stifled a yawn, choosing instead to adjust his tie for the second time in as many minutes. The wall behind him was grounding and kept him away from the bigger crowds.  The elite of Metropolis’s sister city flitted about around him,  largely ignoring his attempts to ask questions. _Maybe I should have come in costume_, he thought, _then these people would talk to me_. He shook his head.  After what the league had dubbed the “Barry Allen Incident of 2017” (what Hal secretly called “The time Barry almost set the mayor of Cincinnati on fire”) the league refused to attend events in costume.  Some of the older socialites would have avoided him regardless of whether he was Superman or not, he could tell.  He’d still managed to catch the CEO of the hospital, the head of surgery, and a couple of board members, and he hoped their answers were enough to write his article.  He wasn’t even sure why they still had a society page, and he was even less sure why Cat couldn’t have found literally anyone else to cover the children’s hospital fundraiser.

 _Maybe it’s the suit,_ Clark thought.  He probably looked like he bought it off the rack, which wasn’t inaccurate, and maintaining his “Clark Kent” identity required a little bit of dishevelled chique. He’d have to let Bruce take him shopping like his secret boyfriend had been threatening for months. Clark glanced up from his notebook, watching Bruce across the room.  His trademark Wayne charm was turned up to eleven, attempting to solicit donations for the expansion of the cardiac wing. His suit was crisp and clean, highlighting his perfect physique and his soulful blue eyes. Bruce glanced up and smiled at him in the middle of his conversation. Clark blushed furiously and jotted nonsense in his notebook.

 _Not looking up,_ Clark thought, _not looking up, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me blush in public..._

His super-hearing picked up Bruce cutting his conversation short and making his way across the room, footsteps even and heart quickening. Clark glanced up over his glasses. Bruce held two glasses of sparkling wine, Icelandic by the smell of it. He was smirking, which was never a good sign.  Those smirks usually led to an awkward conversation with J’onn about security cameras and Earth norms around public displays of affection. Clark looked back down. Bruce stopped in front of him, clearing his throat. “Mr. Kent,” he purred, “how are you enjoying the gala?”

Clark glared at Bruce. “ Just  fine."

“Would you like some Icelandic ice wine? It’s distilled in very small batches, and each barrel has it’s own distinct notes.  I think  someone with your...advanced palate will quite enjoy it.”

Clark rolled his eyes and took the glass, taking a slow sip. While he couldn’t get drunk, it was quite good. “And you, Mr. Wayne? How are you enjoying the gala?”

Bruce leaned forward, stealing a glance at Clark’s notebook. “I’m managing to get more donations than you are quotes, it seems.”

Clark groaned. “I hope I have enough to finish the article. Cat got the flu and sent me because no one else wanted to drive to Gotham. These people know Cat, and some know Lois. I’m  just ...some guy from Kansas.”

Bruce leaned against the wall next to him, giving Clark a gentle smile. “These people like to act virtuous, but most consider any one of a lower tax bracket disposable. Don’t let it get to you. Dr. Tompkins is the source you want anyways, and you’ve got that covered.”

Clark nodded,  gently brushing Bruce’s hand. “It was worth it to see you.”

Bruce shivered, a motion almost imperceptible to anyone but Clark. “I admit, I'm pleased to see you as well. Things have been so busy recently, we’ve  barely  had any time to spend together.” He stole a quick glance at Clark. “That suit is a travesty.”

“Maybe we should go shopping together. You know clothes better than I do, Mr. Best Dressed Man in Gotham.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t read the society section.”

_Gosh darn it, so much for not blushing._ “I said I don’t write it, not that I didn’t read it. It’s good to know who my boyfriend has  been spotted  with lately.”

Bruce moved closer. “Then, if you’re reading it, you should know that your boyfriend hasn’t been enjoying the nightlife lately. It’s almost like he’s seeing someone.  Seriously  .” Bruce tucked a lock of Clark’s hair behind his ear, pressing his lips where the hair once was. “  Perhaps  you’d like to interview me about it.”

“I’m at work, Bruce.” Clark hissed.

“You were getting ready to go home. I could tell by the way you fiddled with your tie and stopped jotting things down. Come on, Clark.” Bruce smirked against his cheek. “Don’t you want an exclusive?”

Clark sighed, rubbing his eyes. He could hear Bruce’s heartbeat, steady but quick. He could smell Bruce’s cologne. He felt a little lightheaded. He was so, so weak for this man. “As long as you promise to never say that again.”

Bruce took his hand, giving it a kiss. “I own this building,” he said, pulling Clark behind him as he wove them through the crowd, “and I know a place we’ll be alone.”

Clark just nodded, following Bruce as best he could, all the way into a  beautifully lit hallway.  They moved through empty corridors until they found a closet, at the opposite end of the hallway as the ballroom, crammed between the men’s bathroom and the emergency stairs.

“It’s a closet,” Clark said, looking through the door with his X-ray vision. It was tiny. He wasn't sure they'd both fit. “Isn’t this a little cliche?”

“It’s quiet and private.” Bruce opened the door, holding it open for Clark. “And it’s comfier than the back seat of your civic.”

“Touche.”

The door clicked shut behind them.  Bruce faced Clark, giving his lips the smallest lick before descending upon him, grabbing the back of his partner’s head as he bit into Clark’s neck. Clark cried out as quiet as he could, stuffing his fist into his mouth. “I’ve missed you so much,” Bruce whispered, moving up to kiss along Clark’s jaw. “I’ve thought about you every single day.”

Clark caressed Bruce’s face, playing with his hair. Bruce leaned into the touch. “Me too. We haven’t had a date in a while. I enjoy our phone calls but it’s not enough.”

“Once gala season is over,” Bruce whispered against Clark’s lips, “I’ll take you out on the yacht. We can have dinner under the stars, floating on the river. No one to bother us.” He pressed his lips to Clark’s, biting his bottom lip. Clark moaned and grabbed the sides of Bruce’s head, giving him a full and proper kiss. Bruce moaned, pressing himself against Clark, burying his hands in his hair. “ Just think of it, Clark. It’ll be wonderful.”

Clark was having trouble thinking of anything beyond the warmth of the press of Bruce’s body against his.  He nodded mutely, biting his lip to suppress a gasp as Bruce nibbled on the spot where his collarbone met his shoulder.  God, Bruce smelled so good, his cologne almost overpowering in the small space, and the insistent press against his thigh told him that his partner was feeling just as good as he was.  He slid his hand between them and started to clumsily paw at the heavy erection straining through Bruce’s dress slacks.  He pinpointed his super-hearing on only the sounds Bruce made, the little hitches of breath, the little pants, the noise of the party upstairs long forgotten as Bruce moaned into his mouth.

Bruce grabbed Clark’s hand with surprising strength and moved it to his ass, Clark immediately taking the hint and starting to squeeze the toned flesh beneath his hands.  “Not going to last,” Bruce explained, running his hands down Clark’s ample chest, stopping at his nipples, “it’s been too long .”

Clark tried to make a noise of agreement, but all that came out was a “hmph!” and a “hungh!” as Bruce started to tease the buds beneath his thumbs. It was all so good. It was almost too much. It was...

Click.

“Bruce,” Clark managed to squeak out before the closet door was flung open.  A very small girl with brown hair pulled into a neat ponytail blinked at them, her mouth falling open as her jaw dropped in shock. Clark recognized her. She’d interned at the Daily Planet last summer. Sara. No, Sandy. No, definitely Stacy. They had a lot of interns, and brown was a common hair colour. But he remembered her. She’d been a good intern, a little catty with the others, but a good worker. “Hi Stacy,” Clark managed. “Do you mind giving us some privacy?”

Stacy blinked again, still in shock. For a few moments, Clark thought she’d leave without incident. A quick smirk crossed her face and Clark grimaced. She pulled out her phone, took a picture, and then darted away, cackling madly as she ran down the hall.

Clark realized that his hand was still on Bruce’s ass. He pulled it away like it was burned. “Can you...”

Bruce was already on his phone, attempting to use one of his many hacking programs. “She’s already posted it.” He said, a hint of panic creeping into his usually controlled voice.

“Then get it off the internet! You did that for Guy after the Superbowl Incident of 2009”.”

“It’s already  been shared  over one hundred times.” Bruce grit his teeth. “And they’ve identified you.”

“And?”

Bruce looked into Clark’s eyes. His usually calm, no-nonsense expression was replaced by one of utter panic. Which, to anyone who didn’t know him, looked like he was struggling to hold in gas. “There’s nothing we can do, Clark. We’ve gone viral.”

#

“You know we have nothing against...people like you, dear.” Martha Kent explained. Clark could hear the gentle sloshing of water. She was probably washing dishes with her phone on speaker, from the sound of it. “I wish you would have told us.”

“I know, Mom,” Clark sighed, resting his head on his worn-out desk. He was working from home and he missed his sleek,  adequately sized desk.  Perry had called him in the morning and told him that if he was even considering coming to work, to a building full of nosy-ass reporters, he was an idiot.  He’d finished his articles for the next month without the burden of having to pretend to be working at normal human speed, and was giving them one last edit. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh no, sweetheart. Don’t be sorry. I know that telling the parents can be difficult for your kind of person.” Martha said, clearing her throat. “I  just  wish we hadn’t seen it in the paper.”

Clark looked over at the newspaper on his desk. The little brat had some skill in photography, he’d give her that. She’d managed to capture both of their entire bodies, from Bruce’s hand on his chest to his hand on Bruce’s rear. There was no room to explain away their position; it was clear that they were in interrupted intimacy. He couldn’t imagine how the people of Smallville were reacting. It would probably be the talk of the town for months.  Maybe even years. “We haven’t been dating long. I haven’t told anyone, I wasn’t sure how serious we were yet.”

“Ah. And where did you meet your not-serious boyfriend, Mr. Wayne?”

“Work,” Clark answered, in the tone that they’d long established meant his superhero career, not his job at the newspaper.

“I see.” Clark heard her set down something glass on the counter.

“Is Dad around? I should tell him this stuff too.” Clark’s phone vibrated. Another call was coming in.  He’d hoped that his email promising an exclusive to whichever coworkers left him alone had been enough.

Martha Kent sighed. “He’s out in the fields. He doesn’t think less of you, you have to understand. It’s just a lot to take in. We were raised a certain way, and...”

“It’s okay.” Clark tried to reassure her. It really,  really wasn’t.

#

Bruce left a voicemail on Clark’s phone. He couldn’t imagine how much the poor man’s life had blown up. His own life wasn’t in the best shape, but he had the money and reputation to deal with it. Rumours about his sexuality had been circulating for years. They saw a resurgence after he adopted each of his kids, which made him deeply uncomfortable. The boys were coping with...the situation better than he'd anticipated. Dick was forced to retreat to the manor since his address was leaked and sorry excuses for reporters were camping out in front of it. Damien was home playing video games, pulled out of school for the same reason. 

The trending hashtag on Twitter was “#IKnewIt, accompanied by duplication after duplication of the damning photo. He’d been trying to get Clark on the phone to offer his home to him during this difficult time. He had the luxury of hiding out at his mansion, which was guarded by drones, dogs, and one shot-gun happy butler. Clark was in his dinky little apartment all by himself, dealing with things alone (the place didn’t even have a doorman. How quaint). Bruce was trying to be a good friend first. The fact that he hadn’t prepared a separate bedroom for Clark and had washed his own sheets in preparation was neither here nor there. 

Alfred placed a newspaper in front of Bruce as he sipped his coffee. “You’re on the bottom half,” the droll British man informed him, “it seems the mayor’s latest scandal takes precedent over your sexual escapades.”

“Yeah, in the Gotham Paper. It took the Metropolis papers five minutes to find Clark’s identity and he’s on every front page. They’ve even named his parents, Alfred. This is insane.”

“That seems a little factious, don’t you think Master Bruce? There are so many papers in...”

“Every. Single. One. I checked.” Bruce ground out. 

“Oh, dear. This is Mistress Diana’s bar fight all over again.”

“The other guy had it coming.”

“Indeed. It seems like...no, I should not.” Alfred shook his head. 

“What.”

“It appeared the other guy, in this scenario...” A blush darkened Alfred’s cheek. 

“Had it ‘coming’ as well.” Bruce finished. “Dick made that joke earlier, didn’t he.”

“Actually, I did, after he brought up the bar fight and whether the cretin spiking ladies drinks deserved a broken spine,” Alfred said proudly. 

“Great.” Bruce’s phone started to ring. Clark, finally calling him back. “I’ve got to take this.” 

“Indeed. I shall bring you your breakfast shortly.” Alfred bowed, leaving the room. Bruce glared at his retreating back. He was glad someone was able to make jokes about it. At least someone had found some kind of joy in this situation. Well, someone other than Jason, who’d been texting him the memes made from the image all morning. He was sure Red Hood had made some himself. 

Bruce swiped to answer the call. Just seeing the adorable picture of Clark shoving pie into his face on the screen made him feel better. “Hey, handsome.”

“Hey yourself, gorgeous.” Clark laughed. Bruce already felt better. “So, tell me about your day.”

“Alfred is making jokes.”

“Oh, dear. The situation really is serious.” 

“Oh, you have no idea. But take it from me, my love. I’ve weathered worse before. You’ll be okay. You’d be amazed at how quickly people forget.”

Clark was quiet. The silence stretched for a few minutes, punctuated only by Alfred setting his food-laden plates on his favourite antique silver-platter. “Clark?”

“Oh, sorry.”

“What’s wrong? Is something happening?”

“No, it’s...oh, forget it.” He sighed. Bruce could practically hear him running his hands through his hair. 

“Come on, tell me.” Bruce pleaded. “With everything that’s going on...”

“It’s stupid, but you just said the “l” word. I know it wasn’t “I love you” or anything, but I...you’re my love too?” Clark offered, starting to stammer. Adorable. Bruce smiled. His boyfriend was a reporter, so of course, he was observant. But he was also a giant dork, so he was fumbling over his words and stammering and acting shy. It was so cute he could almost cry. 

“Okay, okay. Hey, do you want to come here for a few days? I’m on an island, pretty well, so there are no reporters or paparazzi vultures around. Most of the guys who work in Gotham are scared of Alfred.” Bruce joked, hoping Clark didn’t catch how desperately he wanted this to happen. They weren’t serious yet, after all. They were just starting this thing. Committed, yes, but not serious. The last thing he wanted was to scare his very skittish partner away, given that they were now very much in the spotlight. “I know it’s not the yacht, but we can spend some time together.”

“I don’t know...” Clark said, the creaking of his chair audible over the phone. “I wouldn't want to be a burden or anything.” 

“You wouldn’t be. I...I’d like to see you. I miss you. I’m worried about you.” Bruce spilled, earning a raised eyebrow from Alfred. “I’d feel better knowing that you were here with me, rather than at your crappy apartment."

"I could stay at the fortress."

"So you'd rather be in your shit-box apartment or in the middle of nowhere in the arctic than here, at my luxurious manor? I'm wounded, Clark. Truly."

“My apartment isn’t that bad,” Clark protested, interrupted by someone banging on the door. Bruce heard Clark put the phone down, yell at someone, and then stomp back across the room. He let out a deep sigh. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” 

Bruce smiled. He’d finally get the morning cuddles he wasn’t craving at all. “See you soon, my love,” he said, ending the call before he could hear Clark’s response. 

“Are we having a visitor, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked, setting Bruce’s morning tea in front of him.

“Yes. I have made the executive decision to invite Clark to stay here while we are both under public scrutiny.”

“Very good, sir. It’s certainly fortunate that you washed your bedsheets.” Alfred...was that a smirk? Bruce looked away, a blush blooming on his face. “You know, Master Bruce, I don’t mind cleaning up after your...dates. Just please, do use protection. For my sake.”

Bruce considered taking the tray down to the Batcave if only so he could get lower than the ground. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he answered, his voice cracking (to the eternal delight of Alfred). 

#

Clark’s phone rang as he flew to the mansion. He rolled his eyes at the caller ID. Looks like Lois wasn’t getting the exclusive now. He really thought that Jimmy or Cat would be the one to break first. He slid his headset into his ear and kept flying. “Hi, Lois.”

“Before you get mad, I’m not calling as a reporter. I’m calling as your friend. Are you okay?”

Clark thought for a moment. “Good, all things considered.”

“Good, because I’m mad at you.”

“Why?” Clark asked, flabbergasted. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Lois whined. “What the hell, Smallville? I thought we were friends!”

“We are!” Clark protested. “I just...we’re not serious. nobody knew, okay? My parents didn’t even know!”  
  
“What about his...oh, wait. Nevermind. His parents probably already know. I’m sure they’re looking down on you two fondly and all that.” Lois said sadly. Clark could hear her shake her head. “But still. You’re damn serious now.”

“I know, right? Clark bemoaned. “This isn’t how I wanted to come out. At all.”

“Half of us already knew, if that makes you feel better.”

“How?!”

“You’re not that subtle,” Lois laughed. “Perry is talking about indicting the girl who took your picture. I bet Bruce is too.”

“I’m not sure. I’m headed over to his place now, I’ll ask him what he thinks we should do. I just need to get out of my apartment, since apparently I need to move into a building with better security.” Clark groaned. “Won’t take it back, though. It won’t change that everyone knows now.”

“Fair.” Lois cleared her throat. “I gotta know, as your friend. Are you happy?”

Clark didn’t even have to think. “I am.” He really was. Bruce was amazing. He was so funny, and kind, and generous, and strong, and he adored him. They got along well together, and he was a good kisser. It felt right, more than any other relationship he’d been in had. 

“I’m really happy for you, Clark.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “I know we didn’t work out, but I just want you to be happy.”

“Thanks, Lois. I appreciate that.”

“So, did you meet Bruce at work or at...work?”

“I’m hanging up, Lois,” Clark said, shaking his head. “Stop being a reporter, and let me fly to my boyfriend’s house in peace.”

“But--” Lois protested, right before the call was disconnected. 

#

Bruce watched nervously as Clark landed. He was in his civilian clothes, his tie fluttering up to smack him in his perfect face. He had a small brown suitcase in one hand, which couldn't have more than his toothbrush and a hairbrush. Oh, poor dear. They’d have to go online and buy from his tailor, get him something nice. Something that let him get a glimpse of the goods. His pants were so loose that it was hard to see that the man had a butt at all. He landed and gave Bruce a dazzling smile. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself.” Bruce walked forward and gave Clark a deep kiss, pulling him down by the tie and shoving his tongue in his mouth. Clark moaned into his mouth and grabbed the side of Bruce’s head, deepening the kiss. He dropped his bag so he could fist handfuls of Bruce’s shirt. It was hard for Bruce to pull away, but Clark was very observant and read the signals that he wanted to stop for a breath. “I’ve missed you.”  
  
“I missed you too." Clark smiled. “It’s only been a few days, but...” Clark took both of Bruce’s hands in his. It always surprised Bruce that Clark could be so gentle. The same hands that could punch a building in half could also hold his and squeeze without breaking a bone. “I miss you all the time when you’re not with me,” Clark said, cheeks red and eyes wide. 

Bruce kissed him on the cheek. “Me too.” He pulled away and looked over his shoulder. Alfred was holding the door open, Dick was staring at them through his bedroom window, and Damien was very pointedly trying to not be seen doing the same. The longer they stayed outside, the more likely it would be that someone saw them. “Let’s go inside.”

Clark nodded, picking up his bag and following him into the manor. 

“This is...” Clark looked around the house as they walked through the hallway. Bruce suggested that he put his bag away in the bedroom before breakfast. He wasn’t sure if Clark caught the insinuation, but Alfred did and would hopefully keep his kids away long enough for him to get some. No, he was sure Clark hadn’t caught the insinuation, because he was looking at everything. EVERYTHING. The crown mouldings, the decorative tables, the paintings, even the rug. “This is incredible. The pattern on this rug is just...so detailed. Your house is amazing.”

Bruce shrugged. “I guess I don’t notice all those details anymore.”

“Still, it’s incredible.”

“You’re incredible.” 

Clark blushed. “You’re sweet.”

Bruce finally led Clark to his room. In truth, there were a few bedrooms in the manor. He’d had dates over, but most were in one of the other rooms. This was one of the rare times someone would see where he slept. Bruce took a deep breath and opened the door. “Here we are.”

Clark strolled in like he’d been there a thousand times. He looked around at the walls, and the bookshelves, and the big closet. “It’s big, but it’s cozy. It smells like you. I love it.” Clark turned around and gifted Bruce one of his most dazzling Superman-esque smiles, but one he knew was reserved for him and him alone. 

Bruce’s control snapped. He growled and charged, launching himself into Clark’s arms. The reporter yelped and caught him, holding him tightly as Bruce writhed against him, his mouth kissing and licking everywhere he could reach. “Bruce,” Clark panted, “We should...”

“Shhh. Let me have this. I need you.” Bruce murmured into his neck, nibbling on Clark’s earlobe. He could feel Clark’s bulging muscles underneath his shirt tensing as he found sensitive spots. He latched his lips onto Clark’s mouth, swallowing up his reluctant moans. 

“I’m just...” Clark let out a low whine, “I just think we should talk about it. About what we’re going to do.”

“That can wait, just a little longer. Please, Clark, I....” Bruce’s voice broke. He hadn’t wanted to think about what brought Clark here, but he couldn’t help it now. He’d weather a scandal, he always had, but for all his extraordinary abilities Clark Kent lived the life of a normal man. Who knew if he’d be able to go back to that, even once this was all over. If you Googled his name the first thing that came up was that picture and all the articles about their tryst. His parents didn’t even know. Clark’s every fibre screamed nervous, even louder than it said happy, and he just wanted to make Clark feel better, to take his pain any way he could. “Let me love you,” he whispered, looking deep into Clark’s big blue eyes. 

Clark looked back, his face bright red and his clothes in disarray. He smiled again, softer this time, and leaned forward to kiss the spot between Bruce’s eyes. “Alright. But we’re talking about this after.”

“Promise,” Bruce said, his hands travelling down Clark’s body to give his plush ass a squeeze. Maybe he could screw Clark’s brains out and he’d forget what he wanted to talk about and they could just enjoy each other for a little bit longer. 

#

“So,” Clark said, Bruce nestled under his arm. “What do we do?” Bruce groaned.  He’d really,  really hoped Clark would forget, given how dopey and relaxed the man usually was after they were...both satisfied. “Look, this isn’t my first scandal. This isn’t even my first sex scandal. They fade, with time. We can’t take the picture off the Internet, either. It’s gone too far. So  I think  we should ignore it, let the paparazzi get tired of us, and then continue on.”

“Do you want to press charges?”

“As much as I’d like to, a billionaire going after a twenty-year-old with student loan debt and a shit car isn’t a good look.”

"How do you know about the car?"

"Don't ask."

Clark,  wisely, didn't. “And I don’t have enough money to take her to court without you.”

“Exactly.”  Bruce nudged his nose into Clark’s chin, forcing his head up so he could bury his face in the juncture of Clark’s neck and shoulder. It was,  oddly enough, one of his favourite parts on his partner’s body. “If you have to quit your job, I’ll take care of you.”

“I know you will.” Clark smiled warmly. “I don’t want you to, but I know you will.” He sighed. “I  just ...it doesn’t seem fair. My life is a mess, and I almost want someone to pay. I don’t even know how the team will react, and I have to go back to work eventually, and...” Clark sighed. “This is my first scandal as a civilian. I don’t like it.”

Bruce nodded. He understood, on some level.  He was used to scandals, but he still remembered his first one, when his father was falsely accused of insider trading.  It had burned within him, this injustice, the way everyone had their own opinion and refused to listen to any facts that challenged them. He tried to remember what his father had done, and a plan started to form.

“I may have an idea.”

“ _May_?”

“It’s not fool-proof, so I’ll have to give it more thought. For now, we should focus on each other.”

“I should have known you had ulterior motives for getting me to come here.” Clark teased, stroking Bruce’s cheek with his thumb. “You’re incorrigible, Mr. Wayne.”

“And you love it.”

“I do,” Clark said, looking down at him with more affection than Bruce had ever seen. “Come here.”

“God yes.” Bruce climbed atop his partner. “We’ll worry about how to tell the team after. Right now, I want to rock your world.” Clark’s stomach grumbled. “After breakfast.”

“Thank goodness.” Clark shot up from bed, moving across the room to get his clothes. “I’ve been smelling Alfred’s cinnamon buns all morning. I need you, but I also need pastries.”

“Everyone does,” Bruce said, unable to keep the smile off his face.

#

“So we agreed.”

“Yeah,” Clark said, nodding. He looked at the silver door separating them from their team, the Justice League, on the other side. He followed each light, each button, each wire with his eyes, trying to ground himself. He’d known these people for years, he told himself. He’d know if they were homophobic. But he was still nervous. It would change things, that was for sure.  As to  how he couldn’t be sure.

“I’m here with you,” Bruce said, giving him a very chaste hug. “You’re not alone in this.”

“I know.”  Clark took a deep breath, squeezed Bruce’s hand,  tightly clasped in his, and walked into the Justice League meeting.

The chatter in the room died instantly. Clark willed his breathing steady, but he could feel anxiety build within him. After how his parents reacted, he felt he had the right to be concerned  about his team.

Diana stood up. Clark held his breath. She looked over both of them, her eyes narrowed, before nodding. Clark nodded back. Then, she shouted, at the top of her lungs, and pointed across the room. “I CALLED IT!”

“Goddamn it, Diana!” Hal jumped, knocking over his coffee. “I  just  poured that!”

She leapt over the table and wrapped both Bruce and Clark in a crushing hug. Clark went limp. It was pointless to struggle against Diana’s hugs. Once Wonder Woman decided that you needed a hug, you were going to get a hug. Bruce put up the trademark struggle, but his heart just wasn’t in it. “I knew you two felt great love for each other. I thought it would take one of you dying before you admitted your feelings.”

“As did I, until Clark got that new, even tighter, costume,” Bruce said, winking at Clark. Clark tried not to blush. Superman didn’t blush.

“Clark’s blushing!” Barry yelled. “Clark’s blushing!” Ollie smacked Barry in the arm. “Be mature, dingus. You’re  just  mad that you lost the bet.” Barry pouted and Ollie chortled. Clark looked around the table. Everyone barring Ollie, J’onn, and Guy had their wallets out, laying bills on the table. The Justice League had been a secret gambling ring this whole time, and he hadn’t known. Even Diana let them go to return to the table and retrieve some golden coins from a hidden pocket. Clark felt a little like a slot machine.

“There was a bet!?” Clark sputtered. “Who...”

“Everyone, except myself, Ollie, and Guy,” J’onn confirmed from the other side of the room, putting a milk-covered oreo into his mouth.

“Well, thank you, at least someone had decency....”

“Do not accuse me of virtue I lack. I have no Earth money to wager, and I refused to give up my cookies. Besides, I am a telepath. It would be cheating.”

“That explains you,” Bruce said, suddenly finding his voice, “but...”

“I don’t give a crap.” Guy crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair as he always did at meetings. He was a few seconds away from putting his feet up.  In fact, the only reason the League’s most casual Green Lantern probably hadn’t was because he was sitting beside Hal and Hal was still cursing and cleaning up his coffee mess. “It doesn’t matter who someone loves, or what one of us does in their spare time. What matters is helping people, and you two do that. Ergo, I don’t care.” Guy used a construct to snag his own java from a nearby table, prompting even more swearing from Hal.

“And Ollie?” Bruce asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked over at Green Arrow.  The archer was grinning at the antics of his team, his smirk belying his true joy in observing the madness and money changing over-taking the room. Clark tried to keep his expression neutral, but he was still puzzled. Ollie was a simple man for all his money, who loved justice and stood up for the little guy. He also loved a good laugh. So what kept him out of it?

“I also don’t give a hoot what you two do,  honestly. I’m happy for you.” Black Canary elbowed him in the side.  “Aaaaand I suggested that we bet on who tops and bottoms, but Pretty Bird said that was inappropriate and gross so I dropped out of the betting out of spite .”

Clark’s jaw dropped. “What...the...I...why?”

“Who won?” Bruce asked.

Someone cleared their throat at the other end of the room. Cyborg, their newest member, raised his hand.  “I used statistics to calculate the probabilities based on your psyche records, personality analyses, and the latest metadata gathered from psychological research on relationships. Shows you all right for making fun of me for using math!” He said, smirking at the rest of the team as they passed money down the table to him.

Clark and Bruce took their seats. Their usual seats, side by side, looking at the rest of the team. There were no faces of disgust, no jeering or mocking. Everyone, despite the loss of their money, seemed genuinely happy for them. Clark cleared his throat. Everyone looked up. “I’ll say this once, so listen up: Batman and I are in a romantic relationship. We are not going to let that change our roles on this team, nor will it become a problem in the field. The League will continue as always, and I would really,  really appreciate it if no one asked us any questions. Is that clear?”

A chorus of nods and agreement went around the table. Ollie raised his hand. “Can I ask one question? Please? Since I didn’t turn your relationship into a freaking horse race?”

“No--”

“Sure,” Clark answered for both of them. If he didn’t, Ollie would find some way to ask or find out. If not directly, then by working it into conversation or hinting to it. He was like a dog with a bone that way. He’d rather just answer the question and not have to endure a whole meeting of subterfuge.

“I gotta know—who tops?”

Superman hid his face in his hands to cover his blush. “We switch,” Bruce answered.

The table erupted again.

#

Clark slowly picked up the phone. Bruce squeezed his hand, staring into his eyes, giving him a small smile. “You can do this.” Bruce mouthed. “I know you can.”

Clark took a deep breath and made the call. “Hello?”

Jonathan Kent’s gruff voice filled Clark’s ears. Usually, it would be comforting, but today it just made his chest hurt. “Hey, son.”

“Hi, Dad.” A silence stretched between them. “How are you?” Clark asked finally, kicking himself. Of all the stupid questions...

“I’m fine,” Jonathan responded, “And you?” “I’m doing...alright.”

“Good.” Jonathan cleared his throat. “Have those reporters left you alone yet?”

“No. I’m at Bruce’s house. They found out where I live. I couldn't stay there anymore, and the Fortress of Solitude is a bit of a commute,” Clark tried to joke. Jonathan didn’t laugh. Clark felt sick.

“Look, Clark. This isn’t easy for me. And, because I can  practically  hear the cogs in that big brain turning, it’s not for the reason you think.” Clark’s father groaned, the scuffing of a chair on the floor telling him he was moving to sit down.  Maybe  Clark should have called before the man was tired from his chores. “You know that I don’t hold anything against LGBT people, right? Their damn lives are hard enough because of people not understanding them. It’s nobodies business, anyway.  Just because I’m not like them, doesn’t mean I can’t be a friend. So I’m not upset at you for dating a man. To be frank, I’m not the biggest fan of Mr. Wayne--” Bruce made a pained, hurt face, “or, I suppose, of what I see on TV. I’m sure he’s much different in real life, or you wouldn’t give him the time of day.”

“That’s true. He’s not... ‘Brucey’ isn’t really him. He’s so different than that, Dad. You’ll love him when you meet him. He’s so funny, and kind, and very down to Earth, not at all like the goofball on the talk-shows.”

“Thank God,” Jonathan muttered to himself. “My issue is...: He took a deep breath. “Oh, Clark. My boy. I worry for you, I  truly  do.”

“Dad, I’m Superman. There’s nothing to...”

“You’re also an alien. You’ve seen the way people talk about Mr. J’onzz on TV, or about your other alien pals. You look like us, which is a benefit, but you’re not us.  We’ve tried to make sure you never felt any different, but I know that if public opinion were to change, your life would be so hard  .” Jonathan’s voice broke. “I never wanted that for you, pal. You’re  just  the same to me, same as anyone else.”

A tear ran down Clark’s face. “You’ve never made me feel any different.”

Jonathan laughed. “Thanks. I’m glad to hear that. And I know you can take care of yourself, but...people hate LGBT people almost as much as they hate aliens. And I guess I’m scared, you know? I keep thinking to myself that you’ve never felt the same because no matter what, you’d be different. Alien or bisexual, wouldn't matter. I worried that your life was going to be hard because people just don’t understand. People are so full of hate. You see the best in everyone, but so many people are so full of crap.  I had to tell someone off at coffee the other day, someone I knew for years because they decided they didn’t like that you were dating a handsome rich guy. People can be so cruel, son. I guess I shut down. I got to worrying, and I couldn't get out of it.”

Clark swallowed around a lump in his throat. “It...it’s part of the reason I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want things to be hard for you. I know what people think of men like me.”

“And they’re a bunch of backwards morons,” Jonathan growled. “I don’t care what they think the bible says. Lord Jesus said to love everyone, and treat them well. Period. No exceptions.  They can follow some bigot preacher, but I know what’s right, and no loving God would ever condemn people for who they love .”

Clark smiled. Bruce lifted his hand and kissed it. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Clark,” Jonathan started, “I know your mother said you’re ‘not serious’ with Mr. Wayne, but I want you to know that I don’t care who you date, as long as you’re happy. And,” he cleared his throat, “you looked pretty happy in that picture.”

Clark blushed a deep red. “Daaaaaad.”

“It’s true! A little surprised,  maybe, but you looked happy to be there. That’s what every parent wants. Not to see that, but...”

“We can stop talking about it. He’s happy, I’m happy, everyone’s happy!” Clark’s voice cracked.

“Well, that’s good then.”

“I never wanted to cause you trouble, Dad.”

“You’re not causing me trouble.  The people in this town will forget about this as soon as anyone else does something gossip-worthy.  Besides, they’re probably jealous that Clark Kent, little reedy farm-boy, who their idiot kid picked on in high school, is dating one of the richest men in the world. I mean, I am. A little. I’ve seen his cars on TV and whoo-boy, what I wouldn’t give for one of those.”

“Your father is a handsome man, but you have nothing to worry about,” Bruce whispered. Clark flicked him in the knuckle. “Does he want a car? I can buy him a car.”

“You’re not buying anyone cars!” Clark hissed, trying to keep his father from hearing.

“Is that...is your boyfriend there with you?” Jonathan asked. “Hello? Mr. Wayne? This is Jonathan Kent. Can you do the face-sharing thingy? Martha, come help me do that thing with the phone!”

“Do you want to be on speaker?” Clark asked Bruce. Bruce nodded.

“No need for that, Mr. Kent,” Bruce said evenly. “I don’t mind doing this the old-fashioned way.”

“Martha!” Jonathan yelled, the sound distant like he moved the phone away from his face. “No, I don’t need that video thing, Clark’s got Mr. Wayne on the phone! Yeah! Come in here and talk to him!” He cleared his throat, his voice getting louder as he likely was putting the phone back to his ear. “Sorry about that, Mr. Wayne, sir.  Just  wanted Clark’s mother to have a chance to say hello.”

“No worries, Mr. Kent. And please, call me Bruce.”

“Only if you call me Jonathan.”

“Heh. Will do. Look, I know you probably have a low opinion of me.  You’ve likely not seen the best side of me on TV, but you need to know that I have nothing but affection and respect for your son. We haven't been together long, but he’s the light of my life.” Bruce smiled at Clark, squeezing his hand. “I want you to know that I have nothing but good intentions.”

“Your picture begs to differ.”

“Dad!”

Bruce let out a hearty laugh, a real, genuine laugh. “Your son is very attractive, Mr. Kent. Sometimes a man can't help himself. A little bit of bad intention never hurt anyone, now did it?”

“Jonathan Kent!” They heard. A clunk followed. Jonathan probably set down the phone so both Kents could talk. “I’m surprised at you! Leave these boys alone!”

“I don’t mind, Mrs. Kent.  Just  some harmless joking between guys, that’s all.”

“Clark seemed to mind.” The concern in his mother’s voice was touching. “And please, Bruce. Call me Martha.”

“That was my mother’s name,” Bruce said quietly. “I’d like to do that.”

“Oh, honey. He’s so sweet. Isn’t he sweet, dear? And you were saying that he was an arrogant dick.”

“Martha!”

“Mom!” _This is_ _just_ _like my senior prom_ , Clark thought, _except way, way more awkward_. And Lana’s parents had given him the same treatment, so at least it had been even. Bruce didn’t have parents to grill him. That was a little sad, so he could endure this bit of awkwardness.

“I can be, at times, but Clark keeps me a bit grounded. When I get a little too big for my britches, as my butler likes to say, he makes sure I stay humble. You raised a  truly excellent man. I’m lucky to know him.”

“Oh, thank you!” Martha cooed. “We had our challenges, but he grew up to be a good boy.”

“Challenges?” Bruce gave Clark a flirty side-eye. “Do tell me more.”

“That’ll be for when you come to visit,” Jonathan said. “We have pictures.”

“ _When_?”

“Well, of course! I heard something about a car?”

Clark found himself smiling so hard his face hurt. This was going better than he ever could have hoped for.

#

Bruce fixed his tie, blinking in the bright light of the green room. He’d done this thousands of times. He was more than used to vanity lights, decent catering and the chatter of the cast and crew around him. What he wasn’t used to was being...well, not 100% honest, but at least 75%. Usually, he was all dopey smiles, his “Brucey” mask glued firmly to his face. Today, he knew he had to be authentic, and truthful, and, as Clark said, “show them the side of you I see. No, not that side. Put your shirt back on.”

A knock sounded. Speaking of Clark.

The door squeaked open. Clark ducked a little to get in.  He looked absolutely ravishing in the suit he’d finally let Bruce buy for him, a  finely tailored navy-blue double-breasted number.  He was going tie-less, the suit's tortoise-shell buttons matching the glasses Bruce bought to pull the look together. The crisp white shirt underneath was thankfully not yet stained with coffee. Clark looked demure but stylish, like a magazine ad for fancy cologne come to life. “Hey, handsome.”

“Hey, gorgeous.” Bruce gave Clark a quick kiss on the cheek. Clark tried to do the same, but Bruce stopped him. “Careful. They  just  finished my makeup.”

“Are you sure this is the best option? I mean, the press has been half our problem so far.” Clark scratched the back of his neck.

“And, if we turn bad publicity into good, they’ll leave us alone.  If they see that we’re not having a clandestine affair and we’re in a committed, loving relationship, following us around will lose its allure. Trust me.” Bruce took a deep breath. Both of them knew he was saying that to himself as well as Clark.

“I do.” Clark kissed the top of his head. “I do.”

“Now scoot, get to your seat. They’ll be calling me soon. Tawny hates a late guest.”

“She seems like a nice lady though.” Clark protested but still started walking to the door.

“Yeah, a nice lady with the most popular talk-show in Gotham to run, and with a schedule. Get!” Bruce pointed to the door, Clark laughing and waving over his shoulder as he walked away.

Bruce took one last look in the mirror. He looked calm, cool, collected.  Admittedly, much more Batman than Brucey. Perfect. That was just what he needed.

#

“And our next guest, and one of our favourites on this program, Mr. Bruce Wayne!” Tawny announced.  The pink curtains parted and Bruce stepped into the stage lights, his practised smile firmly in place. He waved at the crowd, his eyes searching for Clark. He couldn't quite see him, but just knowing he was there made him smile more.  He blew a couple of kisses for good measure, before finally listening to the over-worked stagehands and hurrying to his plush salmon couch. Tawny’s practised smile was much better than his was. He reached out to shake her hand.

“Always a pleasure,” he said. “How are you?”

Tawny’s grip was firm, as usual. “Yes, you as well. And I’m good, as always.” She gestured for him to sit.  Bruce was glad he’d chosen to wear grey and black because nothing else truly went with those god-awful excuses for seating arrangements. He waved once more at the audience before finally sitting down. “Bruce, darling.” Tawny cooed. “How are you?”

“I’m well, my dear.” Bruce leaned forward. “You’ve had your hair done since I was here last.”

“I did! It  was permed, but I was like, mmm, no, and now it’s got this wavy thing...do you like it?”

“Of course, darling,” he said, mimicking her earlier tone. The studio audience laughed, but Tawny’s face was...unreadable. He was worried that he’d offended her. _This is a great start. I might as well have jumped on the couches._

“Look at this, folks! Brucey’s doing  just  fine, he’s making his usual jokes—at my expense, you cad.” She playfully gave him a swat on the leg. He didn’t even tense anymore,  just laughed right along with her. “So, sweetie. Let’s cut right to the chase. You’ve been all over the papers, all over the net, all over everything.”

“Is that really so unusual? Come on, folks. You see my face every week at least.” Bruce smiled out at the crowd, still scanning for Clark. When he found him, his smile deepened. Clark looked very uncomfortable in his tiny seat, but he looked very proud still. Bruce turned back to Tawny, who had clearly seen his look.

“Well, you’re not often caught in the middle of it with a hunky Kansas farmboy...” The crowd started to “ooo”. Clark sank in his seat.

“That’s true Tawny, that’s true. I’m rarely fortunate enough to meet hunky farmboys, or you’d see it much more often.” He gave her a wink.

“So you’re...”

“I don’t like labels—unless they’re Armani—” The crowd chuckled, “but  I believe the term is ‘bisexual’. I like beautiful women, I like handsome men. Call that what you will.”

“And on the subject of your handsome man,” Tawny gestured to the stagehands, one of them swivelling the spotlight into the audience, finding Clark a little too quickly. Clark put his hand up against the light, but once his eyes ‘adapted’ he gave the audience a little wave, “is this your beau?”

“Yes. That is my boyfriend, Clark Kent.”

“Boyfriend? So y’all are serious?” Tawny said, making a face like a cat that caught a canary. Her eyes darted between the two men. Bruce was okay with being the canary if it meant getting the other hungry cats off his back.

“Yes.  I know people were saying that I was having an ‘affair’ or some other,” he waved his hands dismissively and made a fart noise with his mouth, “but it isn’t an affair. It’s not a one-night stand, it’s not some phase, it’s me finally finding love.” The audience “awed”. Clark blushed, but one of his trademark “aw-shucks” smiles bloomed on his face.

“Well, I gotta say, half of Gotham is going to be really sad about that,” Tawny said, shaking her head a little.

“Well, half of Gotham is just going to have to live with it, because, I mean, look at him,” Bruce pointed to Clark, the spotlight and the camera going to him. Clark blushed deeply but didn’t take his eyes off Bruce. “When you’ve got someone like that, you commit.”

Tawny nodded approvingly and thirstily. “Yeah, I get it. I’d lock that down with a ring soon as I could buy one.” The audience laughed again, more loudly this time.

“Well, we’re not quite there yet. But eventually. Gotta meet the parents first, do all the right things. You know, the boring stuff.” Bruce flashed the camera a smile. “I know his parents are watching. I’m kidding, guys. I’m looking forward to dinner on Sunday.”

“And his parents are cool with this? You said he’s a farm boy and all...”

“His parents are lovely people. Not every rural person is bigoted, you know.  I think, and Clark’s parents agree, that what matters is if their son is happy. And I hope he is.” He looked up, finding Clark again.

“He is,” Clark called out. The audience collectively  ‘awed’.

“But I suppose the vast wealth doesn’t hurt.”  The audience, and Tawny, laughed, but all Bruce cared about was that Clark was laughing too, taking his glasses off to wipe tears of laughter from his eyes.

#

Bruce found Clark waiting patiently for him at the door to the green room as he’d anticipated. “  I think that went well,” he said, smiling at his partner.

“ I think so. I can’t hear any reporters at my apartment anymore.” Clark said, bouncing from foot to foot.  "  I might  be able to go to work again, though all my articles  are done  so I’d  just  be playing Tetris on my computer and pretending to work .”

“Oh. So you’ll be going home, then.”

“Well, not right away,” Clark said, blushing. “My toothbrush is still at your place. And one of my pairs of boxers. And my heart,  maybe .”

Bruce leaned forward and kissed him, full on the lips. If the cast and crew saw, he didn’t care. If a million reporters saw, he didn’t care. “My heart is right here,” he said, talking against Clark’s mouth, pressing a finger to his chest. “And it always will be.”

“Hmm.” Clark hummed, wrapping his arms around Bruce’s shoulders. “Are you saying that you’re giving me that exclusive now?”

Bruce scoffed and pulled away.  “You’re walking home, Kent,” he said, speed-walking before breaking into a run as Clark chased him through the backstage of The Tawny Show. “You’re going to have to catch me for that exclusive!” Bruce yelled, pushing open the exit.

Clark smirked and in a second Bruce was in his arms. “I’d say let’s go home, but I’m already here.” Clark buried his nose in Bruce’s soft hair. It tickled. Bruce loved it.

“Let’s go somewhere comfortable, then.” He said, tilting his head up for the first of many long, slow, loving kisses.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this fluffy little romp. It was sitting on my computer for a long time, but the COVID gave me the push needed to finish off this story. It's silly, it's fluffy, and it was fun to write thirsty Bruce Wayne and adorable farm boy Clark Kent. 
> 
> Soapbox time: I thought it was important that Clark's parents, despite living in a small town, weren't bigoted. I thought that would be out of character. But at the same time, I know that sometimes parents can be afraid when their kid comes out because people are terrible, especially those claiming to be "Christian". I put that section in because I thought that maybe someone needed to see that. I mean every word I wrote. I'm Christian, and LG(BT) and I accept you, reader. Maybe you believe in God, maybe you don't, but I believe He accepts everyone and loves everyone. You're not going to hell for being who you are, who he made you to be. Okay, I'll get off the Soapbox. 
> 
> I absolutely think that Jason Todd would meme his adoptive parent to oblivion. Without a doubt. He'd probably have some pre-made memes on his laptop ready to go in case of scandal. Dick would retweet them. Damien would pretend he didn't see them because social media is beneath him but secretly have all of them favourited. Alfred would print them out and put them on a corkboard so he could laugh at them when Bruce was being especially trying. 
> 
> My Tumblr: https://inkyblacc.tumblr.com/


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